THE WIND OF SORROW

[kyst]




THE WIND OF SORROW


by: Henry van Dyke










The fire of love was burning, yet so low

That in the dark we scarce could see its rays,

And in the light of perfect-placid days

Nothing but smouldering embers dull and slow.

Vainly, for love's delight, we sought to throw

New pleasures on the pyre to make it blaze:

In life's calm air and tranquil prosperous ways

We missed the radiant heat of long ago.

Then in the night, a night of sad alarms,

Bitter with pain and black with fog of fears,

That drove us trembling to each other's arms--

Across the gulf of darkness and salt tears,

Into life's calm the wind of sorrow came,

And fanned the fire of love to clearest flame.